


Pleasure Garden

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Adultery, Community: hawthorn_vine, Draco Malfoy - character, Established Relationship, F/M, Hermione Granger - character, Infidelity, Separations, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once per year, his moonstone pendant glows. Once per year, she visits the garden. Once per year, they can be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasure Garden

He doesn't know who planted the garden tucked in the farthest corner of the estate. The box hedges that formed a small room were overgrown when he first found them, their thin green limbs tangled together in a wall that looked impenetrable. He could have cut his way through, could have drawn his wand and blasted a hole in the hedges to see what lay beyond them, but something had stopped him. A feeling, a sense.

Even now he couldn't explain why he'd hesitated, but he'd taken his time to work through the hedges. He'd found where the wall was thinnest, where a wooden gate was just visible behind the greenery, and he'd trimmed the hedges with care. Pruned back the leaves, clipped away the twisted twigs and branches, cleared the gnarled roots. He took his time, took care, and when he trimmed away the last of the encroaching hedge, he laid both hands against the wooden gate and he took a deep, shuddering breath. It felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted, as if a tightness around his heart had eased. He couldn't explain it then, and he'd never been able to explain it since, and now he stands in the center of the hidden garden he'd uncovered all those years before.

Some magic keeps the garden in bloom, something so ancient there was no record of it in the family archives. Around him are mounds of flowers. Clusters, borders, circles. A tall oak tree stands in the center of the garden with a ring of primroses in lavender and gold. Around a burbling fountain, there are peonies in shades so pale that only direct sunlight shows the faint tinges of pink and fuchsia. A rock walk and the stone wall behind it are covered in ivy and small climbing roses, shimmering like a river when the breeze toys with their petals. In the magic that maintains the profusion of flowers, the garden blooms in every season, at every hour. From spring through winter, from dawn through night, the garden is full of color and perfume.

Draco stands beneath a waxing moon and stares up at the velvet sky. He stands still, breathing in the scents of the blooms, listening to the breeze that stirs each leaf. Above him, clouds move between the stars. They move like smoke, swirling and dancing among the constellations. One twists itself around Orion's belt, another drapes over Leo's mane. Draco watches them undulate and slink through the sky. A new scent grows on the light breeze around him and he closes his eyes. He exhales, slowly, his chest aching with the strain of keeping his breath steady and silent. One flower does not bloom in this garden and the scent of violets means one thing.

She is there.

He turns and Hermione is there. She's sitting on the edge of the fountain, her fingers dangling in the clear water. Her head is bowed and her long dark hair flows around her shoulders. Draco clears his throat and she looks up with a smile brighter than the moon. The moonstone pendant resting in the hollow of her throat gleams, its shine strengthening as Draco approaches. He reaches out and touches the stone and the bright light flares and fades. Draco cups his hand under Hermione's chin and lifts her head. "You came," he says, his voice only just louder than the breeze that stirs Hermione's curls.

She stands. Her hands slip up his arms to wrap around his neck and she tugs him close. Draco bends his head to kiss her. His heart races faster than a Snitch, blood pounding in his ears. The roar of it doubles as his lips touch hers, and he imagines that he can feel her heartbeat as strong and wild as his own. "You came," he whispers again, and Hermione brushes her fingers against his throat.

Her fingers toy at his collar, push the edges apart, and expose the thin leather thong of a necklace, with a chip of moonstone gleaming bright against his skin. She presses her palm over it and the glow fades. "I shouldn't have," she murmurs, her voice shaking. Draco lifts his head to meet her eyes and he sees the shimmer of tears in her lashes. She blinks them away but her lips still tremble. "I shouldn't, Draco." She pushes away from him and wraps her arms around her stomach as she stares into the depths of the fountain. "We shouldn't-- He's _home_ , right now. For all I know, the bed's still warm."

Draco slips his arms around her shoulders. She tenses, then leans back against him, her head resting on his heart. He pulls her left hand from her side and rubs his thumb over the slim gold band. She extends her fingers, spreads them apart. Draco kisses the top of her head and spins the ring on her finger. He tugs it over her knuckle, drops it into the fountain. "No more thinking," he says, his lips moving against her hair. "No should, no shouldn't. No, Hermione. We're here. You, me, this garden, this secret place. Nothing but now. Nothing but us."

Hermione makes a quiet sound and grabs his hand. She rips his wedding ring from his finger and throws it into the water. Spinning in his arms, she grabs his hair and hauls his head down. Her kiss is fierce and savage, her teeth digging into his lip, her tongue driving across his. Draco tastes tears and blood in her mouth and he hauls her body against his.

Hermione keens, shuddering in his arms. She shoves her hands through his hair, claws at his chest. Her teeth scrape his mouth, his throat, his jaw. She bites the lobe of his ear, her breath hot and rough on his skin. Draco clings to her as best he can, but holding her in this sudden fury is like trying to hold a storm. She breaks from him and her eyes flash. Tears coat her cheeks. Draco thinks she might scream, might shriek, might sob, but the only sound from her is a gulping breath.

The garden is full of flowers that scent the gently moving air. The sky is full of clouds that drift like smoke. Tears sparkle on Hermione's cheeks and Draco feels his heart pounding in his chest, battering on his ribs like a bird. He holds out his hand and he meets her eyes.

Hermione leaps. She rushes him and grabs his hand. Draco wraps his fingers around her palm and turns. Together, they run across the garden and dash under the swaying branches of a weeping willow. Tucked in the shadows behind it is a low wall with a jagged crack in the stones. Draco holds his breath, grips Hermione's hand tight, and runs straight into the narrow opening.

They stagger into a small room, hidden by ancient spells inside the stones. He drops her hand and snaps his wand. Torches, candles, sconces all flare to life, filling the secret room with flickering light. Draco drops his wand and wrenches at his collar. Hermione grabs his wrists. She shakes her head and pulls him with her, walking backwards until she collides with a short, narrow bed. She falls onto it, tugging Draco down.

On his hands and knees over her, Draco looks at her. Hermione's wild hair is spread across the pillow like ivy, her skin flushed pink as a rose. Her breasts move under the thin material of her dress, swaying with her deep, violent breaths. Her pulse is fluttering in her throat and Draco bends to kiss it, to press his lips to the heated rush of her blood. Hermione moans and arches up to him, her hands spread across his back. Draco presses his teeth to her skin. "Tell me," he murmurs to her.

Hermione drags her nails down his back and wrenches his shirt free. Her fingers slip up his bare spine to grip his shoulders, the white fabric of his shirt rucked up to his chest. She wraps her feet over his calves and pulls at him. Draco stiffens his arms, tenses his frame, and holds himself over her. "Tell me," he says again.

Hermione groans and her nails dig into his back. Draco hisses as she scratches hot, stinging lines into his skin, but he holds firm. "Tell me," he orders, his voice rough and hard.

She opens her eyes, looks up to him, and her lips part. "I want you," she says. Each word trembles, emerging from her throat thick and slow. "I need you." She cups his face, her thumbs brushing his lips, and two final tears drip from the corners of her eyes to soak into her hair. She blinks, she swallows, and she gives a quavering smile. "I love you."

The world stands still for one moment, while the sound of her voice echoes around them. The flickering golden light, the beat of her pulse, the breath in his lungs all pause as her words float into the air and expand to fill the universe. The moonstone pendants that hang at both their throats glow softly. Draco smiles and lowers to stretch out beside her, one hand spread across her stomach.

He kisses her again, slow and gentle. Their lips touch like butterflies drifting over a meadow. Hermione arches her back and reaches beneath herself to unzip her dress. She pulls the sleeves from her arms and pushes the bodice to her waist. Draco admires the small round tips of her breasts, dark and pebbled like berries. He leans over her and sucks on one. Flicking his tongue over and around, he closes his eyes as Hermione moans. She threads her fingers through his hair and holds his head against her breast. Draco suckles at her nipple until her skin is hot and damp from his mouth.

He kneels up beside her and strips out of his shirt. Hermione slides her fingers up his torso and flicks her thumb across one of his flat, pale nipples. Draco jerks, sucking in air with a gasp. Hermione grins and he chuckles, his cheeks turning a light pink. They meet each other's eyes and laugh again, then turn their attention to undressing. Draco kicks his trousers off the bed, desperate to get his skin against hers, and from the speed with which she wriggles out of her dress, she feels the same. Only a few seconds seem to pass before they are both naked and facing each other on the bed, legs twined together and hands slipping over bodies. He strokes the soft curve of her inner thigh; she traces the arch of his hip. His fingers trail down the length of her forearm; her palm glides up the column of his spine.

Hermione kisses the tip of his nose and pushes him onto his back. She climbs atop him, straddling his hips. He settles his hands on her thighs and looks up at her, his mouth dry and his blood pounding. Her hair falls around her like a waterfall at midnight, her eyes glimmer like the stars. She takes his hand and guides it between them. Draco bites his lip against a groan as his fingers slicken within moments, her body hot and dripping for him. He probes into her folds, slides his thumb up to find the round bump of her clit. Hermione bucks when he finds it. He rubs it gently and slips two fingers into her cunt. Hermione gasps.

She rocks on his hand, cups her breasts in her palms, and throws her head back with a deep, guttural groan. Draco watches with reverent awe as he touches her, fingers thrusting, thumb rubbing. She looks like a goddess, a divine queen who inspires adoration. Her stomach tightens and she quivers. One sharp, high-pitched cry breaks from her throat. The muscles of her cunt squeeze hard around his fingers, releasing and gripping in a rapid pulse. She shudders and grabs his wrist, pushing his hand free when the sensations threaten to overwhelm her.

Draco purrs. He lifts his hips beneath her, rubbing his cock against the wet folds of her body. Hermione shakes her head and shifts to lie beside him. She tugs at his arm and urges him to move over her. Draco rolls, his arms sliding beneath her, and he grips her shoulders. He kisses her, slow and deep, as she bends her knees and presses her thighs to his hips. Her hand slides between them and she grips his shaft. She rubs the head between her folds, slicking his skin. The scent of her arousal rises between them, a musky perfume that mingles with the violets of her shampoo.

Draco gives a soft, impatient growl, and Hermione laughs. She guides him in, moaning softly as he fills her. She trembles when he is fully sheathed. The aftershocks of her orgasm have her still twitching around him and the gentle pulsing of her body heats his blood until he feels as if there is fire in his veins. He holds steady for a moment, looking into her eyes, then he withdraws as slow as he dares. Hermione locks her hands on his waist and tugs at him, her nails sharp on his sides. "Now," she demands, raising her head to bite at his jaw. "Now, Draco."

He finds his balance and obeys her order. Gripping her shoulders tight to keep from shoving her up the bed from the strength of his thrusts, he drives into her. Hermione arches beneath him, her breasts rubbing his chest. Eyes closed, she moans and grunts each time he buries his cock inside her. Draco drops his head to her shoulder, his lips brushing her throat. He whispers to her as he claims her, soft words of need and desire, and as he picks up speed, his words shift. _I need you, I want you._

 _I love you._

Hermione wraps her arms around his back, her legs around his hips. She clings to him, her brow dappled with beads of sweat. Draco's back and thighs burn with his efforts and he feels his body tighten. With a deep growl, he pushes up onto his hands. The change of angle drives his cock across a soft area inside Hermione and she shrieks. She claws at the blanket under her and tosses her head on the thin pillow, her hair lashing like the willow tree's branches in a storm.

Her soft cries meld with Draco's low moan as he stiffens. Head hanging, arms solid as stone, he shudders and comes. Each pulse drags a grunt from him until he manages one last word, one low and rolling murmur. "Hermione."

She smooths his hair from his forehead when he collapses atop her, his face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Humming softly, she strokes his back, her fingers trailing down the ridge of his spine. It takes Draco some time to recover enough strength to push off of her, to move to her side and cradle her in his arms. When he opens his eyes, she is weeping again. He kisses her temple, his brow furrowing in worry.

"I have to go," she whispers. One nail scratches her initials over his heart, leaving a white monogram in his skin that quickly turns pink and welted. "I can't stay here." She sucks in a shaky breath and burrows against him, head tucked under his chin. Draco holds her until her trembles ease and her muscles relax.

He touches the moonstone pendant at her throat. "One night a year," he says.

His voice is so quiet, he's not certain he spoke until she nods against his shoulder. "One. Just one." She pushes back from him and looks into his eyes. "Just us." Draco opens his mouth to respond, but she puts her hand over his mouth, her fingers flat on his lips. "No," she says and she echoes his words of earlier. "You, me, this secret place. Nothing but us. It's what we have, it's _all_ we can have." She waits until he nods, then she touches his throat, the tip of her forefinger rubbing over the moonstone chip of his necklace.

He exhales and brushes his thumb over her lips before closing his eyes. He feels her kiss on his cheek and the bed creaks as she rises. He follows and they both dress in silence, only the rustle of fabric surrounding them. He douses the lights around the room with a flick of his wand and in the darkness Hermione slips her hand into his. He squeezes her fingers and they leave the hidden room together.

In the garden, Hermione goes to the fountain. She reaches into the still water and retrieves their rings. Draco pushes the cold band onto his finger as she does the same. Dawn is approaching over the eastern edge of the garden and a milky-white fog swirls around their ankles as they move. Hermione cups his cheek and rises up on her toes to kiss him once more. Neither of them speak further. There is nothing more to say. She steps back and Draco closes his eyes. When he opens them again, she is gone.

He touches the moonstone pendant at his throat and straightens his shoulders. One year to wait. One year till she stands again in his garden.


End file.
